Ride The wind
by LoveofVelma
Summary: Clarisse remembers that first day, when Joseph entered her life. When Joseph goes in search of the Queen, she has disappeared. Unknown to Joseph, she has a secret she has never shared with anyone, including him. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Ride The Wind

A/N: The usual disclaimer, I make no money from these stories (darn it). Poem by Patty Barnhart, the picture came with the poem. My thanks to my Fonzfan82 for her beta work but any mistakes remain mine.

Chapter one: Clarisse

When I am an old horsewoman

I shall wear turquoise and diamonds

and a straw hat that doesn't suit me

And I shall spend my social security on

white wine and carrots

and sit in my alleyway of my barn...

And listen to my horses breathe.

^^C/J^^

Clarisse sat at the plain dresser, the only piece of furniture from her former life. That's how she thought of her past life; her life before coming to the palace to live. The brush moved slowly, smoothly through her fair hair. She could have asked one of the maids to brush her hair but this was one chore she preferred to accomplish herself. The maids had turned down the covers, placing a piece of chocolate on her pillow, they had left, leaving her alone.

Alone.

She would like nothing better than to snuggle into Joseph's arms, hiding from the queenly duties that took so much of her time these days. But that respite was denied her this night; his last call was to tell her that duty would keep him in the security hub until late. She set the brush down, making her way to the bed, sliding between the clean crisp sheets. She stared at the little square of chocolate.

Her mind drifted down the hallways of time, back, back to that day; the day Joseph came into her life.

_She had glanced up into his eyes and felt...something strange down in the pit of her stomach. She'd tried to hide it, deny it but it refused to be ignored. If Rupert saw the smile that exploded across her face, he was kind enough not to mention it. Joseph bowed, taking her offered hand._

"_If you are to be my personal security guard...may I call you Joseph?" She remembered muttering. 'Queens don't mutter', she chided herself but Joseph had opened a door long closed and it frightened her to peek inside. He agreed._

"_Do you ride, Joseph?" Her husband's presence had been forgotten, only his eyes existed._

"_Horses, Your Majesty?" His eyes danced in playfulness. Even then, she wondered if he was flirting with her._

"_Horses, Joseph. Did you think I meant camels?" She let her eyes drop, discreetly studying the man before her._

"_I have experience with both." He said it confidently, waiting for her to lift her eyes._

"_You don't mind do you, Rupert? I need some exercise as do the horses." It was an honest request but Clarisse felt a need to get away from her husband...far away. Their wedding had been a fairly tale affair that ended with the wedding night. He had demanded she produce an heir; it was her duty. _

"_What if it's a girl?" She had suggested as she stepped out of her wedding dress. He made it perfectly clear that that would not be tolerated. What had transpired afterwards could not be considered love in any sense of the word. Sex, pure and simple, with little fanfare had become the pattern for their coupling from that night forward. Over the years she had delivered two heirs but had never felt the tugging of real love._

_She had turned her attention back to Joseph. "Go to the stables, Joseph. Pick out a horse for yourself; the stableman knows which horse to saddle for me. I'll join you after changing."_

Lying in her bed, Clarisse fingered the chocolate. Unwrapping the small confection, she nipped at one corner, letting the sweet flavor flow over her tongue. Her mind returned to that first ride. She wasn't in love with Joseph that first day, that would come as their friendship grew.

_Clarisse had always enjoyed riding, feeling the wind rushing through her hair. Rupert had never liked to ride except when duty demanded it, never for pleasure. Maybe that was why Clarisse reveled each and every time she could escape the palace...and Rupert. She couldn't help but notice how he sat astride a horse. Muscular legs and the way he moved with the black horse testified that this wasn't his first time in a saddle. _

"_Have you ever rode the wind, Joseph?" She hadn't waited for his response, urging her palomino into a full gallop. _

_They had stopped in a meadow to give the horses a breather. Clarrise watched as he scanned the area, accessing any threats. Only when he was satisfied did he relax but his eyes continued to skim the field of flowers._

_She sat, stretching her legs out in front of her. She realized she had been wrong: he hadn't fully relaxed, staying alert as he held the reins. _

"_Have you seen so beautiful, Joseph?" She indicated the sea of wildflowers with a sweep of her hand. A light breeze made waves across the taller plants._

"_I don't believe I have, Your Majesty." Clarisse wasn't sure if he meant the flowered field before them or if she had just received a compliment. She felt a new heat rising, coloring her face with a deep crimson._

"_We should get back, Your Majesty. It wouldn't do to stay out too long." He added but hadn't moved, continuing to examine the real beauty before him._

Clarisse was surprised to find the chocolate square half gone. The recollection of their first meeting and ride only enhanced his absence. The sensation she had felt that day had never left her, only intensified as the years had passed.


	2. Chapter 2

Ride The Wind

Chapter two: Joseph

_I will sneak out in the middle of a summer night  
And ride the old bay gelding,  
Across the moonstruck meadow  
If my old bones will allow  
And when people come to call, I will smile and nod  
As I walk past the gardens to the barn  
and show instead the flowers growing  
inside stalls fresh-lined with straw._

^^C/J^^

Joseph had arrived in his suite exhausted, too late to use the secret passage to the Queen's suite. He had discovered the passage quite by accident one day. There was no indication how long ago it had been created but he and Clarisse had used it to their mutual advantage. He first thought of stripping and falling into bed but a shower and a shot of whiskey sounded better and would lead to a restful sleep. He poured the shot, looked at it and added a bit more. Stripping down, he adjusted the water while sipping at the dark liquid.

He was never sure what woke him from his slumber. His eyes opened to a quiet room, the clock on the nightstand read half past midnight. The palace had its own sounds, day or night. He listened to those sounds now, fully awake, his muscles on high alert. The palace never really shut down contrary to popular belief. Over the years in service, he had become attuned to the normal sounds: a guard walking his rounds for example.

Something was amiss, he thought of calling security but dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. No need to put everyone on alert for an old man's gut feeling. A Head of Security was never "off duty", his first duty was the safety of the crown, namely Clarisse and Princess Amelia. Throwing back the covers, he rose, dressing quickly. The secret passage didn't make a sound as he removed the panel, slipping into the Royal Suite.

Her bedroom was silent, the bed rumpled—but empty. A half eaten rectangle of chocolate lay on one pillow...his pillow if he'd been here to share it with her. He moved to the balcony where he had held her so often as she worried about her precious roses during a storm. The feel of her in his arms, was so real he felt her there, caressing his cheek.

But she wasn't there, kissing his lips, leading him back into the bedroom. No ghostly image floated among the flowers. As Head of Security he couldn't hit the panic button; people in a panic made mistakes and he wasn't allowed to make any errors. One more stop to make then he'd raise all the alarms he could think of and a few he'd make up.

"Cook, have you seen the Queen?" The kitchen never closed, there were the night crew, including guards he was in charge of, to be fed, fresh hot coffee, tea was always available.

"It was strange, Sir. She didn't take tea as she usually does but she asked for three carrots. Now, Sir what would the Queen do with those carrots?"

The relief he felt was nearly palpable. Cook turned back to her duties not seeing his shoulders slump.

With a destination in mind, Joseph headed for the stables expecting to find Clarisse feeding carrots to the Palomino. What he found set his nerves on edge once more: Dancer's stall empty and the door open.

Fifteen minutes later, his horse saddled, he again contemplated alerting security but once more he rejected the idea. He didn't want to embarrass the Queen if she had taken the urge for a midnight ride. Joseph had no idea where she might have ridden in the dark but it couldn't have been far. He had never used his spurs in anger nor did he now as he rode away.

The moon gave Joseph enough light to follow the path at a reasonable rate. The last thing he needed was a repeat of their last ride when he ended up injured and Clarisse playing nurse. He had to admit she had a unique bedside manner. He turned off the main trail when he reached the fork.

Disappointment filled his soul when he realized she wasn't there or at the pool where she had cleaned up after they had made love. He returned to the main trail, continuing his search. Where she had disappeared wasn't so much on his mind as to why. Why would the Queen leave the palace without security or more important, without him? This wasn't like the Clarisse he had fallen in love with, to ignore her duty. Of one thing he was sure, it had to be important. He urged his mount into a faster pace.

He heard the nicker soon afterwards; it was close, his mount answered the call of his stable mate. Five minutes later he found her horse.

She came to him out of the blackness; the moonlight silhouetting the form he had become familiar with. She was as beautiful today as the day he had first met her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, looking into his eyes. It was her eyes that had first attracted him. She was Queen Clarisse then...and married...it hadn't mattered.

"Joseph! I hoped you would come." Her lips were soft, yielding. It would be easy to forget everything...her disappearance, the fact that the moon made time irrelevant. The fact that he was in love with her more tonight than that first day. Reluctantly, he pulled away.

"Clarisse! What were you thinking! What are you doing out here alone, unprotected?"

"Joseph, don't be angry." She laughed, "You are the only man I ever met that can talk through clenched teeth. You do that, you know? Besides, where else would I be...on our anniversary?"

"Anniversary?" Joseph asked, flabbergasted. "What are you talking about?"

The night breeze played with her short curls. "Just like a man. I brought you here on our first ride. Today is the anniversary of that ride. I asked you then if you ever rode the wind. Will you ride the wind...with me...now?"

He smiled, taking her in his arms, like he had wanted to do then. She pulled his shirt from his jeans, opening to his inquiring tongue. His fingers made quick work of the buttons of her blouse, finding that in her haste, she had neglected a bra. His lips left a wet trail of kisses down her neck, shoulder to the swell of moon lit pale breasts.

Their remaining clothes made a suitable makeshift mattress. His hands moved over her body, making her moan when he cupped her breasts, teasing the crests to hard points.

"Oh...Joseph...yes!" One hand drifted from breast to roam over her curls. Her hand found him, beginning to stroke him. "Please...I've been waiting..."

He moved over her, listening to her gasp in pleasure as his arousal pressed against her entrance. "Now."

She raised her hips, accepting him fully.

The night became a natural warm, comforting covering, absorbing their utterances of love as they moved, riding the wind together toward the peak of desire. She matched each of his thrusts with an equal movement with her hips until she felt her coil threatening to come undone.

"Joseph!...Now, darling...I'm...JOSEPH!" She screamed his name into the darkness, her body going rigid, riding the wind of ecstasy.

Hearing her call out his name was too much, one final powerful thrust and he felt his own release, joining in on the wild ride.

He slumped beside her, their breaths coming in great gulps for needed air; he remained imbedded deep inside her.

"Happy anniversary, Darling." He managed when his breathing returned to somewhat normal. He felt the twitching, kissing her pert breasts.

"Happy anniversary to you too, my love." Her inner muscles tightening gently around him. "Again...so soon?"

"Never underestimate the recuperative powers of a man in love."

"Come here, Dear."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Ride the Wind

Chapter three: Peeking Under a Rock

_I will shovel and sweat and wear hay in my hair  
as if it were a jewel  
And I will be an embarrassment to ALL  
Who will not yet have found the peace in being free  
to have a horse as a best friend  
A friend who waits at midnight hour  
With muzzle and nicker and patient eyes  
For the kind of woman I will be  
When I am old._

Part One

"I really don't want to do this, Joseph." Clarisse glanced over at her friend and lover, placing her hand on his thigh. She had insisted on Joseph's personal car rather than the limousine for this very reason. He took his eyes off the road for several seconds, the nervousness in her voice was real.

"We've talked about this, Love." He returned his attention back to the road. They had talked about "it"; for three days the palace had become an armed camp. It was officially their first argument with barbed volleys on both sides. It had been Joseph who had won by giving up.

"_Okay, Clarisse. I give up." Joseph had relented. "If you want to continue just remember, don't wait too long or you'll wake up one morning and it will be too late." He had turned on his heel, leaving her to watch him leave._

"_Is that what happened...to you?" Her defenses mellowed._

"_Yes. Different situation, I choose to go into the military."_

"Could we call a meeting of parliament?" Her hand drifted higher up his leg. "I'd rather face those back stabbers than to do this."

"No meetings, Clarisse. You have the afternoon free of duty. You have to do this." It was a beautiful spring day; Joseph drovewith the top down. He ran through Security procedures to distract his mind as to where her hand was traveling.

"I know a discreet hotel where no one knows us, you could ravish my body." His eyes drifted down, noticing her pink dress had a tendency to travel upwards, revealing well toned legs, firm cream colored thighs. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"As much fun that sounds—remember the top is down, Clarrise—I'll have to take a rain-check. We have arrived." He pulled to the curb in front of a cottage; vines were well on their way to overtake the building. Exiting the auto he opened the door.

"Spoil sport." She smiled, taking his hand. "When you peek under a rock, there is no telling what you'll find looking back at you."

"No more excuses, Your Majesty. Best to look under that rock and face what you see."

"Thank you, Joseph. You're right as usual but that doesn't make it any easier."

The cottage was in surprising good shape, if showing its age. 'Aren't we all?' Clarisse thought as she walked up the path. Glancing right and left, the lawn looked like it needed the attention of a good gardener.

She was about to face the hardest trial of her Monarchy, (she hadn't been joking about meeting Parliament). Drawing from every Queenly lesson, diplomacy and sheer will power, she tapped on the door.

"Coming." Came an aged voice from within the dwelling. The Queen of Genovia was left waiting...waiting to see what would look back at her after she had lifted the rock. She could hear movement, coming closer. She fought the urge to run, run back to the protective arms of Joseph. But he'd just send her back.

The door knob began to turn, the door squeaked as it was pulled open.

"Yes?" The white haired woman was thin, dressed in a well worn house dress. And immediately recognizable after so many years.

"Hello, Mother."

^^J/C^^

Three days ago...

Reluctantly, Joseph extracted himself from her arms. "I'm sorry, Clarisse. We have to get back to the palace. It'll be light soon."

Clarisse stretched tired and sore muscles. She was getting too old to be making love lying on the ground, no matter how exquisite it had been. "I know. It's been a nice interlude." She snuggled closer to his warm body. "I'd like to stay here, wrapped in your arms..."

"And explain why the Queen and her Head of Security were found nude, lying in a field of flowers?" He smiled, lingering over a kiss.

"If they don't know, our country is in deep trouble."

Rising, they dressed quickly in the moonlight. Clarisse was aware of the loving caress of his eyes as she reversed the hurried striptease of earlier. She was amazed that she could make a man want her, bring her to a shattering climax that had left her panting in exhaustion.

If only Rupert had been able to do that, things might have been different.

The memory of 'that' night invaded her thoughts, like a thief, threatening to steal the joy she had felt this night.

She stood beside her mount, feeding the last carrot to the big Palomino, tears threatening to overflow the dam of her eyelids when Joseph approached. Placing his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Smiling, she pressed her bottom against his arousal.

"What's wrong, my love?" He had always been able to tell when something was bothering her. It was one reason why she loved him so much.

"Nothing...everything." She tilted her head, giving him better access to place gentle kisses along her neck. His hands ventured upward, cupping the underside of her breasts; unbidden her nipples responded, growing hard and extended.

"Tell me..." Not a command but a request made out of love. She had grown to trust him with her darkest secrets, except one.

"If you are sure...do you remember this guy's sire?" She indicated the great horse. God, his touch on her breasts, his pulsing member against her bottom was making her damp with a heated need.

"I do, indeed. I was on the King's security guard at the time. I remember hearing stories of a young princess that drove everyone crazy by taking off without telling anyone."

"It was the only time I could escape, to feel free, to ride the wind." She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come.

"My wedding night...the night every girl dreams of...was no dream. It was a nightmare." She turned in his arms, finding love mixed with need in his eyes. "Do you want to hear the rest?"

"Yes..." His thumbs wiped the escaping tears from her cheeks. He had no need to hear, he had been there, in the shadows, but she hadn't known.

"My wedding dress," she began, "was the best satin, unsurpassed lace. The bodice scooped discreetly low. When we got to our suite, I was so excited. Rupert made it clear he wasn't going to help me remove the dress. He stood, watching me as I reached back to lower the zipper.

"'Enough Clarisse. You're mine! Bought and paid for!' He screamed. I was stunned. What did he mean 'bought and paid for'? I was paralyzed with fear, unable to move. He grabbed that beautiful dress, ripping it from delicate lace bodice to below my knees. He dragged me out of the gown, throwing me toward the marriage bed.

"There is only one word to describe what happened next...rape! He raped me on our wedding night. No warm words of love, no foreplay, he just entered me like...some animal in rut. When he was finished, I was so humiliated, so sore from his thrusting organ, I could only curl into a ball and hope he would fall asleep, leave me alone.

"Joseph, I have to ask again. Do you want me to continue? He wasn't through with me."

"Only if you want to..." His tone was laced with a steel element she had never heard from him-but there was love in the gentle kisses he placed on her eyes, her forehead. It was up to her if she continued.

"He ignored me the next day and night. Why I don't know; I found out later he had a string of women he 'visited'. I was preparing for bed when he entered. I still don't know what I did to set him off. He seized my hair, jerking me back, leaning down he sneered, "Know that horse you like so much? I hope you enjoy him, he was the last payment of your bride price!"

He had stolen my riding crop...he pulled me to me feet...and used the crop on my bottom...over and over. I screamed to no no avail. He beat me, ignoring my cries of mercy.

"Joseph, is it any wonder why I ride the wind at every opportunity? Amelia is learning Genovian history...I pray to God in heaven she never finds out the dark history of her grandfather."

Joseph could only hold her, feeling the sobs rack her body. Finally, he picked her up in his arms, placing her on the mighty Palomino. "We have to go, Clarisse. It's a good thing Rupert is dead, I might have killed him with my bare hands."

He would never tell her, or maybe one day he would, tell her how close he had come to killing his King, that night when Olivia had searched him out...

^^J/C^^

Present day...

The old woman stood looking at her visitor. "Carrie? Is it really you? After twenty years? To what do we owe this visit?"

"I wanted to invite you and father to the palace for tea. We need to talk."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Riding the Wind

Chapter four: Of Tea, Cakes, and Secrets Revealed

"A horse is the projection of peoples' dreams about themselves—strong, powerful, beautiful—and it has the capability of giving us escape from our mundane existence." Pam Brown

Part one

Present day, two days after the invitation

Clarisse stared out the window of her office, ignoring the mountain of paperwork waiting patiently on her desk. She sighed heavily, ninety percent of the mountain was needless; designed to make someone feel important. It was the sorting through the ninety percent to deal with the ten that frustrated her to no end.

A light tapping interrupted her thoughts. 'If that is Charlotte with more papers, I'll scream. Very loud.' "Yes?" She replied aloud instead.

It was Charlotte but thankfully she carried no mountain. "Your Majesty, your parents are here."

"Joseph?" Clarisse asked, turning to face her personal assistant and friend.

Charlotte tried to hide a small smile, "I think you should watch your mother. She has taken a liking to Joseph."

"He does have that effect on women, doesn't he? Charlotte, I've been meaning to ask, with Amelia taking the throne, will you be staying on?"

"I've spoken with the Princess, I'll stay during the coronation and transition. I'm sure she'll want someone more her age for a Personal Assistant. I do have plans I would like to pursue."

"I should have known, forgive me for asking. We've been through a lot together haven't we?"

"Indeed, Your Majesty. We have indeed." the younger woman replied.

"Charlotte, just this once, will you call me Clarisse?"

^^C/J^^

Joseph was waiting for her when she left her office. "Everything in readiness, Joseph?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. I took the liberty of placing your parents in the shade of a pear tree."

"Excellent, Joseph. What would I do without you?"

"I hope you never have the opportunity to find out." His hand in the small of her back gave her the reassurance that he was with her as he always had been.

It was a warm Spring day in Genovia, a light breeze cooled the air, played with ladies skirts and made young men think of love in a field of flowers. Joseph was not immune. He could feel the slight tremor shaking her body. He wished he could help but this was something Clarisse would have to face alone.

A slight pressure would let her know he would be nearby.

Joseph held her chair, waiting until the Queen was seated before moving off a few steps. He had an idea of what was about to transpire. It wouldn't be pretty but necessary if Clarisse was to banish this demon from her past.

"I've ordered pear cakes and tea, I hope you like them as much as I do." At a nod of her head, the Chef stepped forward, placing individual cakes in front of each; an assistant poured the tea.

Her mother took a bite, savoring the sweetness. "It is delicious, Carrie. You mentioned you wanted to talk. Well, here we are, what did you want to talk about?"

'Carrie', a nickname from childhood; she hadn't heard that name for twenty years, not until her mother had used it the day before yesterday. But she wasn't a child anymore.

"Perhaps we should get the bitter out of the way before we enjoy the sweet. I asked you and father here for one question: Why did you sell me into slavery?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Nara Magnonette placed her spoon down slowly. "I think we'll be leaving now. Thank you, your majesty, for the cake. It was very good, I'm sorry I can't say the same for the conversation."

"Sit down, Mother. No one is leaving until I have an answer to my question." The atmosphere had taken on a chill that had nothing to do with the breeze. Her mother sat back, glancing at her husband who nodded.

"Very well." Nara seemed to implode, growing smaller. "I don't know where you got your information, but you got it wrong. We never 'sold you' as you so bluntly put it. Your father and I were never given a choice in the matter.

"I have no idea where the old Queen saw or even knew about you. She only sent an envoy to tell us you had been chosen to be bride for her son, Rupert. We never heard from you or the Crown after the wedding.

"Satisfied, your Majesty? We'll leave you now."

"Sit down, Mother." This time the warmth had returned to the Spring day. "I think there has been a misunderstanding. You said the Queen contacted you about me. Do you know why she would choose me? Please, finish your cake."

"As your mother said, Carrie," Victor, her father spoke for the first time. "We can only guess as to why you were chosen. Blame us if you wish but we were ecstatic. Imagine, if you can, our daughter had been chosen to be the next Queen. Would you have done differently?"

"No, dad. I would have done the same. I'm so sorry...I thought..."

"If I may ask, who told you that you had been sold?" Her father asked.

"Rupert...on our wedding night...later he told me Autumn Dancer was the last payment on my bride price." Her voice hitched, unable to continue, she could only sit, hands folded in her lap.

"That lying bastard!" Her father exploded. "_I_ bought that horse for you. _I_ traded three days labor and three hundred dollars for him." He made each point by slamming his fist down on the table.

"You said you could guess why...I was chosen. I'd like to know your guess."

"Understand, it's only a guess, no way to prove anything now. I think you were chosen because the old battleaxe thought you'd be a pushover, someone she could easily control.

"She was wrong, Carrie. You're a strong, beautiful woman. We don't know what Rupert did to you but ask yourself this: Where would Genovia be without you as Queen?"

Clarisse had no answer to that question. But one thing was sure, the throne would not be in Renaldi hands.

"Carrie," her mother interjected, "I've heard that your security have to agree that...they have to take a bullet for their Queen...has anyone..."

"Perhaps your Majesty would like me answer that question." Joseph stepped forward. "Ma'am, it's a curse we don't talk about, you won't find it in any written rules but yes, every new recruit is told it's expected."

"Have you ever taken a bullet for our Carrie?" Nara persisted.

"It was an honor, ma'am." Joseph replied.

"Why did we not see anything in the paper?"

"The incident was hushed up, I don't like publicity."

"But there had to be a trial...of the person, right?"

"No ma'am, there was no trial. The incident required I be in full military regalia, including my sword. There was no trial because the perpetrator's head hit the floor before I did."

"Joseph! That's enough blood for one day." Clarisse had to smile, thinking of that day when Joseph had pushed her to the floor, covering her with his body.

"Mother, Dad, there is someone I'd like you to meet. Joseph, see if Amelia can join us for tea. I don't think she'd mind a break in her lessons."

"Yes, your Majesty. I'll check." A word in his earpiece and he turned back to Clarrise, "She's free and on her way."

A beautiful young girl came bounding out of the palace, walking swiftly. The four watched as the dark haired Princess approached the table.

"Amelia," Clarisse began, "I'd like you to meet Nara and Victor Magnonette, my parents. Your great-grandparents. Mom, Dad, this is Princess Amelia Magnonette Renaldi, the next Queen of Genovia."

"Shut...up!"

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Ride the Wind

"To ride a horse is to ride the sky" Author Unknown

Chapter five: The Dark Half

Part one

Later that evening Clarisse invited Joseph to dine with her in her suite. They often dined together to discuss a varied collection of topics, from needed changes in security procedures to foreign policy to the latest local gossip. Tonight was no exception.

"That certainly went well." Clarisse stated, sipping her wine, dabbing daintily at her lips. She was referring to Mia's outburst at meeting her great-grandparents.

Joseph took a moment to swallow a bite of well cooked steak, "Especially after she explained that she often resorts to her San Francisco upbringing. The look on your mother's face was priceless. You can't blame her, only a few months ago she didn't know she had a grandmother, now she has two."

"Defending Mia again, Joseph?" Clarisse sipped at her wine. "Don't be upset; I think it's sweet. I'm glad she will have the chance to know her great-grandparents now."

"Speaking of being upset, what's got you distressed? And Mia doesn't need anyone to defend her."

"You know me too well, Joseph. I was just wondering why my parents were refused access to the palace. It was a cruel thing for Rupert to do, even for him."

"Clarisse, I don't think it was Rupert. Forgive me, Love, but Rupert wasn't all that bright to think of that himself."

"The Queen?" The King had always treated her kindly, even if he didn't know what went on behind closed doors.

"I believe so. She couldn't afford the chance your parents might let something slip."

"Or me. Rupert was easily manipulated by her." She pushed her plate away. "Do you think she was insane?"

"If not insane, she was mentally unstable at best."

"I seem to have lost my appetite. I remember...it was during a small dinner party. I had slipped away to powder my nose. I was checking my makeup when she entered. I thought then that this was not usual. She would go to the Royal suite if she needed to powder her nose. She never used the "public facilities".

"'Your parents are wonderful; it would be a shame if something dreadful should happen to them.' She said and left. I had forgotten the incident until now. I'll put it down to my young age but I didn't see her statement as a warning then. What a horrible woman."

"I need some fresh air, Joseph. Walk with me?"

They left the suite, walking quietly until Joseph passed the guard. "Johnson, the Queen wishes a walk in the garden. I'll take charge of security, you can take a break."

Clarisse stood by the side watching the young man, dressed in his freshly pressed uniform begin to sweat.

"Sir, Security Regulations state I must stand my watch, no mater who orders otherwise."

"Do you know who I am?" Joseph pressed the young man.

"Yes, sir. You are Joseph Romero, Head of Security." Beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

"And as Head of Security I'm telling you the Queen wishes not to be disturbed. You are relieved."

"Beg pardon, sir. I can not be relieved except by the Officer of the Day."

"Are we going to stand out here all night while you two discuss who can relieve who? You figure it out, I'm going to go on my walk." Clarisse turned, walking away.

Joseph huffed, looking at the guard, then at the retreating Queen and the sway of enticing hips, and back at the sentry. "Oh, hell! Stand your watch but if we're disturbed the palace better be on fire, understand?"

"Sir, if the palace is on fire, Security Regulations..."

"Young man, I know the regulations...I wrote most of them!"

"Joseph, don't be too hard on him, he was just doing his job...or is it that he stood up to you that's bothering you?" Clarisse laughed when Joseph had caught up with her.

"He did what he has been trained to do...I'll drop a note in his official jacket tomorrow."

"That's what I love about you. All steel on the outside, a marshmallow on the inside." A dark half moon floated above the garden, stars twinkled, mirroring the twinkle in Clarisse's eyes.

There had been a dark half moon that other night, the night Olivia came knocking on his door.

'The brighter the smile, the darker the secret' he thought, capturing her lips.

Part two

After a tour in the military, Joseph had earned his stripes and an empty feeling. He had applied and been accepted for a spot in the palace security. He was old for the position but over time he had proved himself and one day, he was called into the Head of Security's office. There was an opening in the King's detail, his name was being submitted with an official recommendation. Three weeks later he moved into the palace.

When Rupert was crowned King, Joseph was asked to stay on. He accepted.

When off duty, Joseph visited a certain lounge for dinner and one or sometimes two drinks. The food was excellent, the service superb. He was returning to the security domain one night when a young girl approached.

"Sir, come quickly. I need help." The girl was blond, pretty and shaking in her night gown.

"What's wrong? It's Olivia, isn't it? I've seen you in the palace." The girl nodded in the positive, looking furtively from side to side. It wasn't forbidden but fraternizing with the Royal household help was discouraged.

"It's the Queen, Sir. It's bad, Sir."

"Why come to me? If you need security, there are guards just outside the Queen's door." But she was here, hadn't told the guards, which meant...she had slipped away and would be in major trouble if caught, as would he.

"The maid's know everything, sir. Please hurry."

^^J/C^^

Olivia had warned him it was bad. She hadn't said how bad. The Queen's bottom was covered by a bloody red towel, a pan of crimson colored water sat near by. Joseph was positive the sheets would be destroyed, burned with the thousand other secrets Royalty wanted kept hidden from the media; they would have a field day with this.

He didn't want to see what lay under the red stained piece of cloth. He'd seen enough damaged bodies, hell, he'd been the cause of some of them. Olivia walked around him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

'NO!' His mind screamed. Her bottom had suffered the most but there were slashes that reached the small of her back. Olivia lifted the towel.

"No...more...please." The voice from the Queen was barely recognizable as human. And barely audible.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Ride The Wind

"As a horse runs, think of it as a game of tag with the wind." Tre Tuberville

Chapter six: Black Suede

Part one

"Go get some clean water, rags and surgical gloves. Hurry." He stated flatly. Even in the military he hadn't hated the enemy. Killed, yes, he had killed, but never hated like the hate that surged through his body now. He wanted to leave, to be sick.

Olivia left instead, he took her place on the bed. He detested what had been done to this woman, this was deliberate brutality. She flinched at his touch but didn't cry out. Her skin was soft, delicate. His fingers roamed over her back, above the damage.

Olivia returned, setting the bowl of fresh water down, she handed him a pair of blue latex gloves. He took the gloves, pulling them on. "Small scissors...and two sets of tweezers. Quickly."

Taking the scissors, he cut what remained of her panties off, dropping the bloody objects in the trash. Removing the satin cloth from the cuts wouldn't be easy but it needed to be done. He wanted to leave the clean up to Olivia, he was on the King's detail, not the Queen's. He sighed with relief that her panties had been satin, not cotton; the lint from cotton would have caused an infection. He worked slowly, methodically, holding a gash open with one set of tweezers, removing the pieces of material with the other.

It had taken the better part of an hour, three pans of water and rags beyond number. He dropped the last gory rag on the pile of other bloody rags. "Do what you can for her. I'll be back in three, maybe four hours."

^^J/C^^

Every town has at least one, an area of shadow, even in bright sunlight. There was no sunlight now where Joseph walked. It had taken an hour to arrange the meeting. The vision of what he'd observed haunted him, would continue to haunt him for a long time if not for an eternity.

"Joey! Long time." A man stepped out of the dark. Weak, dirty streetlights gave off a yellowish glow; the man avoided even this meager light. He walked with a cane at his side.

"You got what I asked for, Marcos?" Joseph stopped, standing with his feet spread. His arms hung loosely at his sides.

"You're still wearing black, Joey? You got the money?"

"It fits my mood, Marcos." Joseph pulled an envelope from his leather jacket, laying it on the ground then stepped back. "The agreed amount. You can count it if you wish. Plus..."

"Friends should trust each other. You have any friends you can trust, Joey?" the man limped forward, bending from the waist to pick up the envelope. He placed a shoebox where the envelope had been.

"Plus?"

"A little extra, in case I need more." The man hobbled away, back into the dark shadows.

"It's Joseph, Marcos." Joseph spoke into the dark, walking forward to retrieve the box.

"You should have left me, Joey. It would have been better if you had."

^^J/C^^

"Olivia, listen carefully. I was never here, understand? You never asked me for help, never approached me." He handed her a bottle. "One tablet every six hours. Not five, not seven, six." He handed over an alabaster jar. "this will help with the...injures. It contains something to ease the pain also."

^^J/C ^^

It had taken a month of surveillance to pinpoint the victims movements. Security was a joke here in this forgotten part of the Royal residence. The assassin bypassed the elevator, taking the stairs to the sixth floor. The man knelt in front of the window, extracting the weapon from his shoulder bag. It was assembled in forty-five seconds. Ten seconds more to attach the scope. He took a sighting, adjusted the range then settled into a comfortable position to wait.

The King and Queen always walked in the garden after dinner before retiring to their suite for the night. The Queen walked gingerly, favoring the hip that had also been injured. The scope brought her into the room, so close the assassin might reach out and touch her. The cross-hairs centered her head.

The assassin knew Clarisse wouldn't walk far because of her hip. As if on cue, she placed her hand on the King's arm. He couldn't hear what was being said, it didn't matter. The King watched his wife walk away, favoring the wounded hip. The cross-hairs remained fixed on Rupert, moving from head to chest, known in certain circles as the kill shot.

The man took a deep breath, expelling it slowly. A slight pressure on the trigger...

The hammer fell...

^^J/C^^

Part two

Present day

Joseph jerked awake, bathed in sweat. The nightmare hadn't returned in a long time; not long enough.

Quickly, he rose, careful not to bother Clarisse sleeping beside him. He went into the suite's bathroom, turning on the shower. He stripped out of his black t-shirt and boxers, willing his breathing to return to normal.

He placed his hands against the wall, letting the water hit his head, cascading down his back, washing the sweat away. The glass door opened, Clarisse stepped in, standing in front of him. She reached up, caressing his cheek.

"Was it bad, this time?"

He could only nod as she took the soap and cloth, working up a thick lather. She began to wash his chest. "Do you know why I fell in love with you?"

"I've often wondered that very thing." He moaned as her soapy hands drifted downward.

She took his hands in hers, moving them behind her, placing his hands on her bottom. "I've wondered why you love me. I was marked, deformed and it didn't matter to you. You loved me in spite of my ugliness."

His hands cupped her bottom, pulling her flush with his body. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Not then. I knew Olivia wasn't alone. But I knew when we were 'officially' introduced."

He spun her around, pressing her against the wall. "How did you know? You've always been beautiful to me." His hands cupped the underside of her breasts, his thumbs teasing the tips to puffy hardness. One hand floated down, fingers combing through wet curls, making her moan.

"Black...Suede..."She parted her legs, groaning when his finger found the little bud.

"What about it?"

"The scent...was there...that night...again...when we 'met'. It's so...you."

He entered her in one smooth motion of his hips making her throw her head back, accepting him fully.

"Ah, Joseph!" She moved with him, as the water ran between their bodies, the coil began to tighten.

God, what he did to her. There was no wind for her to ride but she was flying none the less. How high could he take her? She was about to find out. She pulled his head up, looking into those wonderful loving eyes. He slowed his movements; moving in and out of her.

"I love you." He said in a whisper, feeling her control weakening, slipping away.

"I love you so much, Joseph. Ride the wind with me!"

Her scream of ecstasy was enough to make him lose control. He slammed into her one last time, joining her on the wild wind, going higher and higher...together.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Ride The Wind

"In riding a horse, we borrow freedom"-Helen Thompson

Chapter seven: The Eagle's Last Flight

It all came down to this...this moment. A lifetime of duty and service to the crown now resting atop her well coiffured head. Clarisse stood behind the curtain draped across the landing of the dual staircases. The room had been decorated for Amelia's coronation in golds, greens and blues with flowers of all colors. Mia stood opposite, her gown receiving final adjustments.

Princess Mia looked across the landing, across the years at her beloved grandmother and wondered how she had survived. The loss of a husband, a son, another son abdicating the throne to join the church and above all, leading the country she loved with dignity. Mia flicked the fan open, peeking over the edge to capture the Queen's eyes, flipping the fan to reveal a smiling face then a sad face in turn.

Across the way, Clarisse was thankful they were hidden behind curtains, away from prying eyes. Mia had grown from an awkward fifteen year old girl to a sassy young woman. And there was nothing Clarisse could do about it. She saw that Olivia stood beside Mia; the two women curtsied. In all her years of reigning Queen, with all the curtsies she had received, none had brought her to tears as now.

And there was nothing she could do about it, old muscles still ached from the exuberant lovemaking in the shower and later, in her bed. A small bob of the regal head in acknowledgment would have to do.

The music began, heralding the end of one reign and the start of another.

"The Eagle is flying...for the last time." A sniff stole into Charlotte's voice.

Clarisse and Mia stepped from behind the drapes, turning at the head of the stairs.

The first step, Joseph waiting as he always had. The love of her life, a love found, lost and now restored.

The next step, her parents standing beside Joseph. A family lost for twenty years because of a misunderstanding and some power hungry evil woman. Now restored.

Clarisse stopped in front of the Arch Bishop, bowing slightly. The arch Bishop removing the crown.

The final step, freedom. The crown, so light it could be held in one hand, but how much did duty to that crown weigh? How much did love weigh, love hidden in the shadows for so long? She stepped back to stand beside Joseph, her husband of one whole week.

"Joseph?"

"Yes, my love?" They watched as the crown was placed on Amelia's head.

"I've...I forgot my shoes."

"Perhaps I can be of service." Joseph held up a plain paper bag.

^^J/C^^

Hand in hand, they slipped away. There was no secluded hideaway during the party that had followed Mia's coronation but the couple was able to find an unused alcove. With no chair, sofa or other seating arrangement, Clarisse was forced to brace herself against the wall, lifting her gown.

"Woman, remember where we are. You lift that dress any higher and I wont be responsible." Joseph knelt in front of her.

"Promise?" She lifted the garment higher, revealing lace topped stockings. She lifted a dainty foot.

Joseph took her heel, slipping the shoe on, sliding his hand up over her calf. A glimpse of peach colored satin came into view when he looked upward.

"Joseph, if that hand goes any higher and I wont be responsible."

"Promise?" He laughed softly, taking her other foot.

"Ahem...Grandma?"

Startled, Joseph and Clarisse jerked around to see Mia staring at them. Clarisse stood, swiping at wrinkles in the gown that weren't there. She still wore only one shoe. "Yes, Dear?"

"Grandma, they have this tradition, the Queen has to make an appearance on the balcony..."

"That's right, Mia. You are Queen now, go enjoy yourself." 'Please go, I need to get that other shoe on.'

"I would...but Grandma, the crowd wants you. Besides, I want my first dance as Queen to be with Grandpa Joe."

"You heard the Queen, better do as she says or she'll have us hung by our toes in the courtyard."

"I'll just..." Mia began, embarrassed over what she had interrupted. "Go...I'll wait." Mia turned, returning to the party.

The crowd erupted when Clarisse appeared on the balcony (with both shoes). The outpouring of love for their former queen continued to build as Joseph led Mia onto the dance floor.

"You've improved your dancing, Your Majesty." Joseph spoke as he led her through the dance.

"I had an excellent teacher. Grandpa, I'm concerned about Grandma; no woman forgets her shoes, especially on the day she's been looking forward to for years."

"Your Majesty, your Grandma didn't forget her shoes. She may have forgotten I took her shoes before giving her a foot massage."

"That must have been a massage to remember."

^^J/C^^

"It's finally over." Clarisse whispered to herself. She and Joseph had shared two dances before making their escape. He had told her in San Francisco that she'd worn black too long but she didn't think he'd mind this black and red racy number. It cupped her ample breasts in soft satin and Genovian lace.

"Not bad for an old former Queen." She told the reflection in the full length mirror. She had selected her evening attire with seduction in mind, not that she thought she'd have to work too hard, considering the looks of desire Joseph had bestowed on her during the coronation process. Stepping into the matching sleep panties, she left their bedroom, entering the living quarters. Joseph sat on the sofa in his trademark sleeping garments, black boxers and t-shirt.

"I hope I didn't make you wait too long." Joseph looked up at the sound of of her voice. Looking over reading spectacles he ran an appreciative eye over her body. Full breasts that made his mouth wet, long fit legs that had been part of his dreams over the years. Creamy thighs that made the tent in his boxers impossible to hide.

She moistened her lips, noticing the twitching going on beneath his shorts. A wicked smile began to play at the corners of her mouth as she sat beside him. Her lips found, covered his, her tongue flicking over his lower lip; he opening for her, groaning as her hand floated down over his chest to play with the waist band of his boxers. She broke the kiss momentarily.

"Joseph, you've been wearing black too long."

"Lift." She stated, tugging the boxers down. "Mmmm, somebody wants to play."

Clarisse drew a fingertip down the length, wrapping her hand around the base. His hands moved to slide the thin straps off her shoulders, exposing tips already hard. She stretched out on the sofa, placing her head on his lap, kissing the head of his shaft.

Hearing his moans, she brought more of his member into her mouth; stroking him, setting a rhythm that soon had his hips rising and falling with her movements. She opened her legs at his hand rubbing against the satin at her apex. Aroused between his manhood in her mouth and his fingers moving her panties aside, parting curls to find her core, she felt her own moisture flow against his exploring fingers.

"Clarisse! If you don't stop..." Such an admission only spurred her to increase the pressure of her mouth, stroking him faster. "Oh...my...God!"

Before he reached the point of no return, he pulled her mouth from his arousal, lifting her nightie over her head. Gently pushing her back; he resolved to slow things down or his desire would leave her unfulfilled and he wouldn't, no, couldn't allow that.

He followed her as she lay back; kissing her with a hunger he fought to control. Leaving her lips, he left a trail down her neck, stopping to pay attention to the sweet spot where her racing heartbeat reached the surface. Teasing, light kisses flowed over breasts, tips. His fingers found the waistband of the only remaining garment between reality and ecstasy. The panties joined her nightie on the floor.

"God, Joseph, I'm so wet and ready, I want you...now." And who was he to disobey his Queen. He entered her slowly, her legs wrapping around his waist, accepting him fully with a moan of desire. He began a circular motion, moving in and out of her core with increasing passion. She closed her eyes, muscles tightening against his hardness.

He increased his movements, driving as deep as he could into her. With her ministrations earlier, it wasn't long before he cried her name, riding the wind. Seconds later he felt her body grow rigid, as she joined him in the ride to the edge of the cosmos.

Later, clothing collected from the maid's eyes they moved to their bedroom, falling asleep in minutes. The maids may know everything but no need to feed the resulting gossip.

In the middle of the night, they woke, wrapped in a tangle of sheets, arms and legs.

"Joseph, we need to talk about security in the east wing."

"Now?! Woman, you're going to be the death of me, yet. Why the East wing?"

She straddled his lap, grinding against him, brushing his lips with a bare breast. "My parents are coming for a visit. An extended visit."

The moan escaping Joseph's throat was not one derived from passion.

There was a new wind blowing across Genovia. It would carry the country into a bright and prosperous future. But the past, as all Genovians know, doesn't always stay in the past.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Ride the Wind

A/N: The idea for this chapter came from "Breathing Method" in Different Seasons by Stephen King, Penguin Putnam, 1982.

In 1982 Prime Minister Margret Thatcher sent a 'detachment' to the Falkland Islands to secure the Falklands from Argentine forces. It became known as the Falkland war. Although England was declared the winner, the two countries continue to claim the Islands.

Please note, my Beta is on vacation so any mistakes are mine.

^^0-o-0^^

"Failure? The possibilities do not exist." Margret Thatcher, 1982, when asked about the Falkland war.

Chapter eight: Joseph Tells a Tale

Joseph watched his wife come out of their bedroom; dressed in a powder blue pants with a white silk blouse she smiled, as beautiful today as the day they had first met. He found the Ice Queen, as she was referred to by some people, was anything but on their first loving session. She had been shy and retiring to begin but a lioness had finished.

Clarisse had fought hard to keep the extra pounds off, she found the fight got harder with the extra years. From the look on Joseph's face, the effort had been worth it. She hadn't the hour glass figure of younger years but felt his eyes roaming over her body, coming to rest on her breasts.

"Joseph, are you sure you don't want to join us? My parents have moved into the East wing and Amelia and I have been invited to visit." Clarisse brushed his lips with her own; Joseph had a fleeting moment of indecision. They had enjoyed a day without interruption, walking through the garden, sharing a private moment in the gazebo. But an evening as one of two men at a hen party wasn't his idea of a pleasant ending to the day.

"I'm sure, Darling. I'll leave the hen party to you." Actually, Joseph felt the inactivity of being the former Head of Security wearing thin. There was no question that he loved his wife, perhaps an evening on their own would help. His hands drifted down to cup her bottom, pulling her close.

"Don't start fires you won't put out, Joseph. You just want to go to your gentleman's club." She snuggled deeper into his embrace.

"It's not your typical gentleman's club..."

"Then why don't you invite me sometime?" She interrupted, blowing softly in his ear.

"It's not that women are excluded, only discouraged. It's not family oriented." The excuse sounded hollow if truthful.

"Remember Joseph, I'll be waiting. I know you'll be late."

Thus it was that Joseph walked up to the entrance to the Hog's Head Inn later than evening. The Hog's Head had passed through a series of owners over the years. Mr. Longford had become the most recent owner several years ago. He had closed the Inn until a complete refurbishing was completed. The Inn had opened to a stream of customers that hadn't diminished.

"Welcome back, Sir. Your regular table?" Mr. Longford, white haired and dressed in a black suit led Joseph to a table next to a fireplace. It was a cool spring evening and the fire was inviting. "Your usual whiskey, Sir?"

Joseph was impressed for the fact that it had been before the wedding since he had last seen the inside of the Inn. In moments, his whiskey and menu were placed on the table. The food at the Palace was superb but the chef at the Hog's Head was a close second. He wouldn't want to be a judge if the two went head to head in a cook off. Long ingrained instincts remained active even if he was no longer Head of Security; browsing the menu, he remained acutely aware of his surroundings.

Giving his order to the waiter, he settled back with thoughts of what Clarisse would be doing now.

^^C/J^^

Clarisse was sitting in her parent's East wing suite, glancing at but not seeing the pictures in the old photo album her mother had dragged out. She could still feel his lips on hers and wondered what he was doing now. Subconsciously, her fingertips brushed over her lips, thoughts of what they might do when he returned and what fires his lips might ignite. She squirmed in her seat at the mere thought.

"Grandma, is that you?" Mia's question drew her back to the present. She looked at the picture of her on Autumn Dancer, smiling as she held up a blue ribbon.

"Yes, Dear. I think Autumn Dancer deserved that ribbon more than I did. He did most of the work."

^^C/J^^

Ordering an after dinner Brandy, Joseph squirmed, aware that throughout the evening, men were disappearing into a back room. What disturbed him was the fact that the men did not reappear. He had been correct to tell Clarisse women were discouraged from attending the Inn, not one female graced the male dominated establishment. He watched Mr. Longford approaching his table.

"Mr. Romero, the men have assembled and are asking if you would care to join them?"

"And to what do I owe this privilege?" Joseph's curiosity had been aroused and this piqued it even more.

"Once a month, the gentlemen meet, one volunteer tells a story. The men would like you to share a tale."

Joseph agreed and followed Mr. Longford over the threshold, stopping to appraise the room. He had expected a comfortable room, what he observed was a large, oblong room. Several men sat to the side in overstuffed chairs reading newspapers.

"Gather 'round gentlemen. Mr. Romero has agreed to share a tale this evening. Sorry, I can't stay but I have an Inn to run."

"I see some familiar faces," Joseph began as Mr. Longford left. "I also see some who I don't recognize. For those gentlemen, until recently I was the palace Head of Security and bodyguard for our former Queen. Before that I spent some time with the Royal Marines, rising to the rank of Sargent. The tale I wish to convey to you tonight occurred between the two. When it was time for me to reenlist, I declined their offer. I was well off financially but the inactivity was wearing heavily on my nerves.

"On April, 2nd,1982, the Argentinians invaded the Falkland Islands. Needless to say, the U.K. was upset; they applied to the United Nations but other than offering both countries to enter negotiations and condemning the Argentinian action, they took no official action.

"With negotiations stalled, P. M. Thatcher ordered a detachment to the Islands on May 21st. If you take the time to research the paperwork during that time, you will find no reference, orders, or name of Joseph Romero but I was there; I had been approached with a lucrative offer I couldn't refuse.

"I was 2nd in command of a five man team. We were ordered to take an armored transport, spearheading the attack to secure the Western side of East Falkland Island. We hit light weapons resistance almost immediately; our orders were two fold, one, recon, the second, search and destroy. We reported the resistance, returned fire and moved on.

"Names are worthless in this tale, other than my own and one other, you wouldn't recognize the names. There was no question who the driver would be. Marcos said he had night vision that would make a cat jealous. He proved himself as an excellent driver...until we were hit by a mortar. Our vehicle was thrown to the side of the so called road.

"Our leader was unconscious but alive; Marcos had blood streaming from a head wound, myself and the other members had a few bruises and shaken but okay. I knew we only had minutes before another round would be incoming and we had small arms fire to worry about. With the men returning fire, I got our leader out then returned to extract Marcos.

"There was no question what we had to do. We couldn't stay there, we would be over run. The leader had regained consciousness but was no condition to lead. I carried Marcos, the others provided firepower as we made our way back to friendly lines.

"That's my tale, Gentlemen."

"What happened to 'Marcos'?" One of the men asked.

"He got medical treatment and survived. He ended up with a stiff leg and has to walk with a cane but he is alive. Everyone else went on to a successful career. I was accepted into Palace Security."

"Mr. Romero, has any new leads come to light about our King's assassination?"

"No, Sir. Not to my knowledge. As you know, murder cases are never closed; the assassination case is still open."

Later, as Joseph took his leave, he had the feeling he had been lucky and most likely would not be returning to the Hog's Head. He was walking toward his car, smelling the sweet smell a fraction of a second before a cloth covered his mouth and nose. He fought but the chloroform was quickly sapping his strength.

"Let the King rest in peace or suffer the circumstances." He heard the voice, felt the darkness take over; he didn't feel the ground hit his cheek.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Ride The Wind

Chapter nine: In The Name of Honor

Joseph opened his eyes and closed them quickly. The pain was intense, he felt like the top of his head would come off if he didn't hold it on. He combed fingers through his hair.

"Ah, you're awake. How do you feel?"

"I've felt better, Shades. How did I get here?" The Palace Security hub was unmistakable, he'd spent enough time in this very office.

"Pyrus police dropped you off. Someone found you in the bushes, they thought you were drunk. There was whiskey on your breath. I thought you'd be more comfortable here rather than in a Pyrus cell."

"Thanks, Shades."

"I know you weren't drunk, so what happened? Were you mugged? Your wallet was found nearby...no money."

"I don't know for sure. I smelled something sweet so I'm guessing chloroform."

"Any description, any idea who it might have been?"

"None...male, young, taller than me."

"That describes half the men in Genovia, the other half are short, fat and balding...coffee, tea?"

"Thanks, but I think I should go home. Clarisse will be worried. There is something you could do for me."

^^J/C^^

It was two A M by the time Joseph returned to their suite, finding Clarisse asleep on the chaise lounge in front of a fire that had burned down to mere embers. They had spent many happy hours on the lounge, watching the fire or a program on the television or enjoying some quality time together.

She looked beautiful in slumber, make-up removed, clothing left for laundry. A trim leg had escaped her sky blue robe; a hint of matching nightie peeked out, teasing him. He hated to wake her, but it had to be done. He leaned down, kissing her forehead, closed eyelids and lastly, her full lips. She stirred, returning the pressure, her arms encircling his neck.

"Welcome home, Joseph." She whispered, opening her eyes. Seeing the pain in hie eyes, "What's wrong, Joseph?"

"I must ask you a question..."

She swung her legs off the lounge, reaching up to cup his chin. "Ask your question."

Joseph took a deep breath, "On the night of Rupert's assassination, do you remember what you said?"

"After twenty years...am I still a suspect? I said, 'Courage is not the absence of fear'. I said it minutes before the Arch Bishop placed that crown, still red with Rupert's blood, upon my head."

"In any investigation, family are eliminated as soon as possible. You were cleared later that evening. Clarisse, this is going to be painful but I have to ask..."

"What happened that night? Joseph, are you going to reopen that cold case after twenty years?"

"Strictly unofficial...it's a matter of honor...my honor."

She reached out, taking his hands in hers. "Then, Joseph, in the name of honor, let's open that cold, dark tomb together. What's _our_ first move?"

"What did you see and hear that night?" A simple question with a complicated answer.

Clarisse took a deep breath, thinking how to answer. Her mind returned to that evening some twenty years ago. It had been cool but she had rejected the light sweater Rupert had held out for her.

"Unofficially, off the record, but you deserve a truthful answer...very well, Joseph, so be it."

"_Rupert and I had a quiet dinner, by that I mean we didn't speak to each other. I had given him what he wanted: sex to produce an heir; I had produced two. I felt trapped in a loveless marriage. Beatings were his way to remind me that sex was my wifely duty, whenever he could squeeze me in between his other women. Oh, I knew of his 'indiscretions', what I didn't know was who or how many._

_Rupert knew my garden was my refuge. I think he enjoyed invading it; we usually walked in the, my, garden after dinner and that night was no exception. I had come to hate those walks. __We hadn't gone far, each step was agony, physically as well as mentally. How dare he intrude into my only retreat? If I had had a gun, I think I could have shot him myself! I stopped, blaming an upset stomach I turned and headed back to the palace. I never made it._

_A shot rang out, shattering the quiet night. I turned to see Rupert crumble to the ground. I may have hated the monster I had been forced to marry but...I began to scream. __Security surrounded me immediately, ushering me into the palace. _

_My mind was numb. I can remember only parts and pieces...Security mainly, then the maids leading this screaming woman (only later would I know she was me) into the Royal suite. I wondered why they were striping my dress off, replacing it with a gown. Eyes red from crying, my mind tr__ied__ to come to grips with the assassination. No one said that Rupert was dead, they didn't have to put it in__to__ words...I knew._

_And then...God in heaven! I was led, I couldn't walk by myself, to that horrid room where Parliament had gathered. All I wanted to do was to curl up and cry. Parliament had other ideas. It was explained, like I understood what anyone was saying, that I needed to take the crown; there were others that would steal the crown from the Renaldi line._

_His body wasn't even cold and I was being asked, no, told, that I was now the next in line. I have a vague memory of the Arch Bishop placing the crown on my head._

_I was Queen, with all the responsibilities, duties of leading a whole country and I had to be led away by the maids! _

"Clarisse, how many shots did you hear?" Joseph wiped her cheeks free of tears.

"Only one, Joseph. One was enough."

"Only one more question, Love. You had just left the King when the shot rang out. I've been thinking, what if Rupert wasn't the target? What if you were the target?"

"That's two questions...I'd never thought of it that way. But Joseph, who would do such a thing?"

"That, Clarisse, is what we have to find out. First, we need sleep; we'll start our search tomorrow."

Joseph picked her up off the lounge, carrying her to their bedroom.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Ride The Wind

A/N: In the scene between Joseph and the Argentine colonel, I have taken the liberty of translating their conversation into English.

Chapter ten: The Dead files

With the last of the chloroform out of his system and a chance to sleep, Joseph leaned on his elbow, watching Clarisse as she slept. His thoughts returned to the previous night and the story she had provided. Her story was consistent with the only eye witness. The watcher that had stayed in the shadows, observing as the horrible events unfolded.

Clarisse had become hysterical. Within hours she had been crowned Queen of Genovia; the 'Queen's facade' had dropped into place soon after. Joseph thoughts moved back to the first official appearance of Clarisse as Queen. Regal, majestic, she had stepped out on the balcony, accepting the accolades of the few gathered in the courtyard.

She stirred, her eyes fluttering open. "Good morning, Darling."

"Good morning, I was just thinking how lucky I am. How could a Queen love such a man as me?"

"Darling, falling in love with you was the easy part. What was hard was keeping my love secret while wondering if you felt the same."

"Speaking of secrets, shall we have breakfast first?"

"I think, if we can depend on that clock, lunch would be more acceptable."

As Clarisse dressed, Joseph made a call to Security. "Shades, did you have any luck?"

^^J/C^^

Fortified by lunch and the information provided by Shades, Joseph and Clarisse headed to the East wing.

"We'll have to take the stairs, Joseph. Power was cut off years ago since it wasn't being used."

"Until your parents moved into the lower suite." Joseph reminded her. "Power has been restored, we'll take the elevator."

"Joseph, you do think of everything."

"I try my best, Sweetheart."

Ignoring the fire his hands on her breasts had ignited, Clarisse moved across the room as soon as the elevator doors opened to stand in front of the grimy, fly specked window.

"Is this...is this where it happened?"

"Yes, he would have stood, or more likely, knelt there." He stood behind her, arms encircling her waist.

"Did he suffer...I mean, Rupert, did Rupert suffer?"

Joseph lowered his head, he couldn't lie to her; she was one of the strongest women he had ever known but...memory was a cruel mistress.

_After reinforcing his squad, Joseph found progress slowed and finally stopped by machine gun fire. Directing three men to take the left, Joseph and the other man assigned to his squad took the right. They converged, moving quickly. Final tally, two dead Argentinians but the machine gun was still serviceable. Joseph had not gone unscathed, one dead, another badly injured. _

_More bad news arrived the next morning when a patrol reported the enemy was holding one-hundred or so civilians were being held as a human shield. _

_Diplomacy became the order of the day. It rankled. A siege was imposed, reinforcements and supplies were blocked._

"_Sir," Joseph, now a sergeant major, spoke to his C. O., "I may have an idea."_

"_What idea, sergeant major?"_

"_I'll need the use of a Harrier..." Joseph explained his plan in detail._

_And thus Joseph found himself looking over the recent prisoners. He was looking for a man, an officer, one accustomed to giving, and taking, orders. He stretched out his arm, pointing at a colonel. _

_The wind was blowing strong as the two men stood on a hill overlooking the settlement, a smile on Joseph's face. "Colonel, you have an opportunity to save a lot of your people. You have an hour to convince your friends to release the civilians and surrender."_

"_And if they don't?" The Colonel sneered._

_A Harrier jet flew over the settlement until it was only a dark spot in the distant sky. Joseph's smile slowly transformed to a straight line, his eyes turning cold as the blowing wind._

"_In an hour that jet and a few of his friends will be back. Don't bother with a white flag."_

_The Colonel started down the hill. "Colonel, you forgot something." Joseph tossed a blood stained white cloth. _

"_Think your bluff will work, sergeant major?" His C. O. asked when Joseph returned._

"_We'll know within the hour, Sir." Joseph found a comfortable spot to sit and beginning cleaning his weapon._

_Thirty-five minutes later a bloody white flag was observed being waved as the civilians came out of the buildings, they were followed by one-hundred-fifty soldiers, weapons held over their heads. One man and a Harrier jet had essentially brought the war to an end. _

He took her in his arms, kissing the top of her head. He had sugar coated his tale at the Hog's Head; she had suffered twenty years of questioning stares. He could do it again, not mentioning the damage the bullet had caused. "No, Darling. He didn't suffer. Death would have been instantaneous."

"What do you expect to find here?" Clarisse turned in his arms, opening her mouth to his tongue teasing her lower lip. His hands ventured up to caress her breasts.

"I'll take this as a down payment. Now, answer my question, Joseph."

"Probably nothing but unlike Mia and her E-reader, I like to hold a book, or in this case, the original reports in my hands, get a feel for what's written."

"I like your hands getting a feel." A wicked smile played at the corner of her mouth. "So, what do we do?"

Joseph pointed at the shelves holding box after box of reports going back twenty years. "You take the left, I'll go right. Call out when you find anything referring to the assassination."

^^J/C^^

Four hours later, Joseph slid the last box into place. He was tired, hungry and depressed at what he had found. Or more accurately, what he hadn't found. Everyone involved in the investigation had a solid alibi. Except one. Clarisse wasn't going to like it.

"Joseph, why did you pull my hair?" He glanced over at her, she leaned against a shelf of boxes.

"I'm ten feet from you, I couldn't have pulled your hair. Are you alright?" He didn't like the pale look on her face. He walked quickly to stand before her, reaching out to hold her.

"Well, something jerked my hair. I don't believe in ghosts but I don't like this place. Can we go now?" She leaned into his embrace, placing her head against his chest.

"Of course. How do you feel?" They started walking toward the elevator, Clarisse holding tightly to his arm.

"I feel...weak, cold, so cold. Joseph, I...think I'm going to..."

She fainted. Joseph swept her into his arms, walking briskly for the elevator, thankful he'd thought to have the power restored. Six flights of stairs with two replacement knees wasn't his idea of a walk in the park.

TBC

.


	11. Chapter 11

Ride The Wind

Chapter eleven: Sins Of The Father

_Within himself the danger lies...John Milton, Paradise Lost. _

The girl smiled, delighted that she had been invited to the palace for Crown Prince Rupert's sixteenth birthday party. She glanced down at her shoes, thinking of Cinderella. The Royals knew how to throw a party. From the lavish food, including three huge birthday cakes to feed the many guests, to a live band for dancing. Each girl, such as Anna, had a date but it was well known and accepted that if Prince Rupert asked for a dance—you danced. Rupert was handsome, Anna had described him as 'dreamy' in her private diary.

Anna had caught Rupert looking at her several times today, she hoped he'd ask for a dance and if he should kiss her, on the lips, of course, it would be something to brag about to her friends. Was he looking at her again? It was well known in the country side that the Prince was promised to that wallflower Clarisse but a little flirtation during a dance wouldn't hurt. Her heart nearly jumped out of her well endowed chest when Rupert approached her.

"May I have this dance?" Anna was drawn or willingly pulled into an embrace that made her imagination take flight. Other girls would dance with him, it was the kiss she wanted so badly that would make the difference.

"I like your dress, you look fantastic." Knee length with a bodice that revealed an expanse of ample breasts had caught his eye.

"As fantastic as Clarisse?" Anna fluttered her dark eyelashes. "You could do better." The feel of how the sight of her cleavage effected him was very evident in the building pressure against her midsection. She encouraged the connection, pushing her hips forward.

"Do you feel alright?" Anna asked alarmed at the painful expression on his face. The dance had ended, Rupert moving his hand from her back to rub his forehead.

"Just a headache. The noise, you know." Anna accepted the simple explanation. The noise wasn't that loud but you didn't argue with the heir-apparent. "Would you like to get away from this noise?"

The invitation was exactly what Anna had been wanting...being alone with the Prince. She accepted immediately. Rupert made his excuses, leaving the party in a casual manner, Anna claimed a trip to the ladies room was in order and followed, finding him in a bedroom half way down the hallway. He had removed his party jacket by the time she joined him. His arms around her waist drew her into an embrace she had only dreamed of, his lips crushing hers.

She heard the zipper being lowered, felt the release of her bra, her breasts springing forward, free from the restraining satin. His touch wasn't a lover's caress, the pain was severe, his fingers digging deep into tender flesh. Her hands went up, trying to remove his fingers from her breasts.

"Your Highness, please, you're hurting me."

"No one says 'no' to me." The fist against her temple sent stars across her vision. She was shoved onto the bed, her new dress hiked up around her waist. The sound of her panties being torn was the only sound in the room before she felt his weight trapping her on the bed.

A moment to shove his pants down; she groaned at the sight of his ardor. Pushing her legs apart, he entered her virginal core savagely. The blood between her legs only seemed to urge him on, thrusting harder, faster. She began to cry.

"Shut up! You want us to be heard?" His fist emphasized the need for silence.

She welcomed the darkness.

^^J/C^^

Joseph sat in a chair, fingers intertwined, watching Clarisse as she slept. Mentally he thought over the missive he had read in the room on the sixth floor, so many questions...but answers as well. It confirmed what he had already come to suspect. The assassination had been too complicated for one person; there had to be someone inside the palace, someone who knew the security procedures.

It was all circumstantial and over twenty years old but now he knew who that person had been. And Clarisse wasn't going to like it. At all. A glance reassured him that she had slipped into a light sleep.

His mind returned to the document. Anna, if that was her real name, would have been paid off, sent away. Especially if she proved to be pregnant; France or Spain seemed the most logical. It would be time consuming and expensive to chase her down but to what end?

Joseph rose, heading toward the little bar, intent on pouring a drink. A rustle behind him made him turn, seeing Clarisse watching him. "Come to bed, Joseph."

Stripping quickly to his traditional black boxers, he joined her, gathering her in his arms, his drink and the document forgotten for the moment.

Lying her head on his chest, Clarisse listened to his heartbeat, trying to come to terms with what had happened earlier. "It was Rupert, wasn't it, Joseph?"

"I'm afraid it was. That room was where he was hidden after one of his headaches. I think the boxes of reports regarding his assassination being stored up there has only enforced his presence."

"What happened up there? I felt so cold. It chilled me to the bone."

Heads jerked up, covers were grabbed, pulled over semi nude bodies when a whirlwind burst into the bedroom.

"Mia!" Clarisse yelled. "You must learn how to knock!" Joseph covered his eyes with one hand.

"Good evening, Your Majesty."

"Grandma, what happened? The palace is talking about Joe carrying you through the castle. Parliament has called an emergency session and wants my response."

"Your grandmother fainted."

"Joseph, a queen does not faint," she reminded him.

"May I remind you, Darling, you are no longer Queen. You fainted."

"I am not leaving until I have something to tell Parliament." Amelia crossed her arms defiantly. "Start talking."

Several long minutes passed as Joseph gave Amelia an abbreviated rendering of what had happened on the sixth floor. Mia glanced from Joe to grandmother in amazement as the story unfolded.

"Well, I can't tell Parliament that the palace is haunted by Grandpa Rupert. As much as we've complained, they do care. I'll come up with something to tell them though I don't know what..."

"Your Majesty, you're pulling a Mia." Joseph smiled at his adopted granddaughter.

"Joe, I will not have my castle haunted by anyone, family or not. Deal with it will you?" She swung around heading toward the door.

TBC


End file.
